


the metaphorical chair

by pioneering



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-16
Updated: 2015-01-16
Packaged: 2018-03-07 18:04:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3178045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pioneering/pseuds/pioneering
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Murphy never would have considered it if he hadn't figured it out before Clarke and Bellamy did.  But this would be so much better.</p>
<p>(If Murphy had taken a different route for getting even with Bellamy)</p>
            </blockquote>





	the metaphorical chair

Murphy never would have _considered_ it, if he hadn't figured out how Bellamy felt about Clarke.

But when he had Bellamy tied up in the drop ship, he decided that he could make his revenge hurt even _more_. 

"Clarke!" he shouted.  "You want to come in here, fine.  But only you—no guns, no backup.  You take one wrong _step_ , and Bellamy dies."  He hit the button to open the door.  "You've got eight seconds."

Bellamy was glaring daggers at him, obviously trying to tear through the bindings on his hands and making no progress.  Murphy only smirked, when at three seconds left he heard footsteps.

"I'm unarmed," Clarke's voice said.  "I'm coming in."

Murphy watched her push back the curtain, and he hit the button to close the door again.  He strode over, giving her an awkward pat down to prove her original statement.  She glared at him when he pulled away without finding weapons.  "I wasn't lying," she said.

He saw her glance over at Bellamy with concern, clearly taking stock of him in the medical sense.  Other than being tied up with a nasty cut on his forehead, Murphy hadn't hurt him.  Yet.

Bellamy, on the other hand, hadn't taken his eyes off of Clarke since she walked into the drop ship.  "What do you want, Murphy," Bellamy growled.  "I'm the one who kicked the chair out from under you, Clarke had nothing to do with it."

Murphy smirked again—he was right, Bellamy was smitten.  _And_ Murphy'd get to take out both of the camp's leaders at once—finally, things would be run the right way.

"You're right," he said.  "You _did_ kick the chair out from under me.  And you'll pay for that.  But _Clarke_ ," he said, turning his gaze towards her.  " _Clarke_ was the only reason the witch hunt for Wells' killer started in the first place.  So really, it's _her_ fault."

Clarke didn't break eye contact with him.  "Murphy, you don't have to do this.  You think everyone will respect you if you do this?"

Murphy laughed.  "Do you think I _care_?  You two both deserve to suffer for what you did to me.  Now get up on that chair."

The chair he was referring to was the one in the middle of the room, turned strategically to face Bellamy, the noose he forced Bellamy to make dangling ominously over top.

Clarke looked at Bellamy, almost as if she were steeling herself, and moved slowly towards the chair.  Bellamy was straining again, but Murphy knew the restraints would hold.

She stepped up on the chair, now looming over Murphy and Bellamy.  Murphy shoved a gun against Bellamy's head.  "One wrong move, princess, and he dies."

Bellamy stared up at her.  "Clarke, walk away.  You don't have to stay here, he's pointing the gun at me, not you," he said, voice becoming slightly more desperate.  He was about to watch Clarke's _execution_.

"You think she'd just _leave_ you here," Murphy said incredulously.  "Clearly, neither of you have been paying attention to one another very well.  Now put your head through there," he said, not needing to explain what _there_ meant.

"Dammit, Murphy, she tried to _save you_ ," Bellamy shouted.  "And you're going to kill her now?"

"Why did she have to save me in the first place?" Murphy spat, turning towards Clarke and grabbing the rope.  "You were the reason I ended up in that noose."

He tugged on the rope and Clarke gasped, feeling it tighten around her neck and grabbing it with one hand, holding the rope above her with the other in hopes of keeping the pressure off of her neck so she could breathe.  She could hear Bellamy straining and struggling, obviously making no progress, and Murphy laughed.

"There's no way out of this one, princess," he hissed, approaching her slowly.  When he was close enough that he could speak to her without Bellamy hearing, he whispered, "you know, maybe I'll let him live.  He'll have to deal with living without you, and I can't see him handling that well.  It'll be a punishment of itself."  He saw Clarke's eyes widen as the implication sunk in—the implication that Bellamy well and truly cared for her—and he saw Bellamy out of the corner of his eye mustering all the strength he had and fighting without success to get to Clarke, and Murphy stepped back.

And kicked the chair out.

" _No!_ " Bellamy shouted, struggling as he watched Clarke flail about in the air.  He had never felt so helpless, and now Clarke was dying and there was nothing he could do and he wouldn't be able to do this without her and he had to get _free_.

Murphy heard banging underneath them, and looked up at Clarke.  "I hope no one important's underneath us," he snarled, grabbing his gun and shooting towards where the sound came from.  He stopped, satisfied when he heard a definite shriek of pain—possibly Raven's.

And then, to his dismay, the door started to open.

He picked the gun back up and strode towards a desperate Bellamy, watching with satisfaction that Clarke's struggling had begun to slow.  She didn't have much longer, and the look in Bellamy's eyes was revenge enough that as long as Clarke died, Murphy didn't even care if he did too.

He saw Jasper stride in just as Clarke stopped moving altogether, and he shoved the gun up against Bellamy's temple.

"One step closer and I'll—" Murphy was cut off as a bullet tore through his skull and Jasper and Octavia came running inside.

"Clarke!"  Jasper ran over to Clarke and heaved her up, relieving the pressure on her neck but unable to tell if she were breathing or not.  At least she wasn't dangling anymore.  "Clarke, can you hear me?"

"Is she okay?" Bellamy croaked, still trying to get out as Murphy's blood seeped into his pants.  Octavia rushed over with a knife, intent on cutting him free.

"I don't know, she isn't conscious.  I can't tell if she's breathing," Jasper said, forcing himself not to panic.

The instant Octavia sawed through the rope keeping Bellamy in place, he launched himself towards Clarke to help Jasper hold her up.  "Octavia, get her down _now_ ," he said, even though she was already on it.

A moment later, the rope snapped and Jasper and Bellamy lowered Clarke carefully to the ground.  Bellamy felt desperately for a pulse, and nearly wilted in relief when he felt one.  She was struggling to breathe though, and he had to wake her up.

He touched her face gently.  "Clarke, come on, you have to wake up," he said, not noticing that Jasper seemed to have given them a bit more space now that he knew Clarke was breathing.  His face was inches from hers.  "You have to be okay," he said.  "I need you."

The drop ship was silent for a moment until Clarke started coughing, hard.  "Easy, easy," he said, backing up slightly as her eyes snapped open.  "You're okay," he said, almost reassuring himself more than Clarke.

Someone was shaking, and he couldn't tell if it were him or Clarke, but Clarke yanked him unceremoniously into a hug that he wasted no time returning, and he realized both of them may be shaking.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered.  "I'm so, so, so sorry."

"Not your fault," Clarke managed. 

Neither had made any move to let go any time soon when Octavia cleared her throat.  Clarke pulled away to look at Jasper and Octavia, standing awkwardly by Murphy's fallen body.  "Thank you—both of you," she croaked.

Octavia smiled.  "We're just glad we got here in time.  Where's Raven?"

Bellamy's eyes widened.  "She's under us—Jasper shot her through the floor."

Clarke started to pull herself to her feet.  "No!" exclaimed Octavia.  "You wait here—we'll bring her to you," she said, hoping for Clarke to not overexert herself after she was nearly hanged.

Clarke nodded, and Bellamy shot a grateful look towards his sister.  "We'll be right back," she said, and headed off with Jasper.

Bellamy helped Clarke up, hovering right behind her as though if he turned away for a moment, he'd turn back around and she'd be on the ground again, too still and barely breathing. 

On an impulse, he leaned over and kissed her on the forehead.  "I'm glad you're okay, princess," he said quietly.  "Raven's gonna be okay, too.  She's got the best doctor in town," he said in an attempt at lightness. 

Clarke forced a smile.  "I'm sorry you had to watch that," she said.

"I'm sorry you had to go through it," he responded back.  He took her hand and squeezed it, and didn't have the words to describe the relief he felt when she squeezed back—a sign that she was living, breathing, moving, responding, still here.

Jasper and Octavia rushed in with Raven in the next moment, and Clarke snatched her hand away, moment lost.  She had to stabilize Raven before moving her around too much—even moving her up from the basement to here was a risk she wouldn't have taken if she thought she had any say.

Bellamy stayed just out of her way, but close enough that Octavia eyed him suspiciously, because it may have looked like he was hovering.  And as Clarke worked away, Bellamy watched, thinking about the fact that _Murphy_ of all people had figured out what he felt towards Clarke before he himself had.  He had no idea if Clarke felt the same, but it was over.  He watched Clarke rush around after being nearly killed trying to save another person's life, and realized that he was completely and utterly screwed.  There was no turning back now—the metaphorical chair had been kicked out from underneath him, and his only salvation would come from the girl he now realized he was in love with.  And he would do everything in his power to keep her safe from now on.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been a scenario that's been on my mind for a while—I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> (I also hope the metaphor actually made sense, because it did in my head but I'm not sure. Feedback would be nice!)


End file.
